The Journey of Sisyphus
by nycz
Summary: Emma dies in a car accident a few weeks after becoming sheriff and the whole town mourns her. Two weeks later, she shows up on Regina's doorstep, very much alive and without any memory of her own death. Angst and slow burn SwanQueen.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story goes AU around 1x09, anything after that is ignored (although I might use some arcs or events in my own way). Also, August won't be joining us for this one, at least not like when did in canon.**

**The rating will probably get changed to Mature eventually, but at least for now I'll keep it at T. **

**Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it! Reviews are greatly appreciated :)**

* * *

"See you after school, Henry," Regina said softly, watching as her son was getting ready to leave.

The only response she got was the front door slamming shut, the sound echoing throughout the large mansion.

It wasn't anything new that her son left for school each morning without so much as a mumbled goodbye, but the fact that it had been like this for more than two weeks did nothing to lessen the pain. She sighed and walked over to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast.

After Emma Swan's death, things had gotten even worse between Regina and her son. He had immediately accused her of having a hand in killing Emma, as soon as he learned of the accident. Nothing had been able to convince him of her innocence, neither the police report nor the autopsies.

_"You killed her!" Henry shouted._

_"Henry, I had nothing to do with this. The driver didn't see her–"_

_"No, you did this, I know you did," he continued, struggling to hold back his tears. "You rigged the car, or– or did something to the driver."_

_"Henry, please! It was an _accident_."_

_"You're lying! You're always lying and you knew the only way to stop Emma from seeing me and breaking the curse was to kill her," he yelled, his voice cracking at the end as tears flowed freely down his cheeks._

_"I didn't have anything to do with it," she insisted, unable to hold her own tears back. She could feel her son slipping away – again – and there was nothing she could do about it. "I promise you, I didn't kill her."_

_"Why should I believe you? You're _evil_," he spat. "You can't love, you can't feel anything and _I hate you_."_

Those last three words were firmly ingrained in her mind; she heard them every time Henry looked at her, loathing and disgust filling his eyes.

He did have a point, though. Why should he believe her? In his mind, she was still the Evil Queen from his book: a heartless monster reveling in the pain of others, killing for the sake of killing. Why should he trust that _this_ time, she had nothing to do with it when so many other times her hands had been coated with the blood of others? Why should he, especially when she had made it completely clear from the very beginning that she wanted Emma gone?

Regina didn't know what was the greatest irony: the fact that she had gotten rid of her son's birth mother by, quite literally, accident, or the fact that even posthumously, Emma managed to take Henry away from her.

Drawing a shaky breath, she took off and hung up her apron, angrily wiping away a few errant tears. She felt weak and powerless and she hated it. Love was weakness, her mother had told her, and she was all too aware of how true that statement was.

* * *

The sky was as gray as asphalt as Regina walked to work, not bothering to hurry when she knew nothing of importance waited for her there. The wind felt refreshingly chilly as it blasted her skin and ruffled her hair, letting her forget about her troubles for a moment as she enjoyed the feeling.

She walked on auto-pilot, not really aware of what path she'd taken until she suddenly realized exactly where she was. A sense of dread washed over her as her eyes flitted over the black tire mark on the street. She hadn't been here since the day Emma died, always taking different routes wherever she was going.

A part of her wanted to turn around and flee, taking another way to work, but she forced herself to ignore it. Still, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the street as she recalled what had happened there. The memories were as clear as if they were only hours old.

_Regina was walking briskly to work, her heels striking a quick beat against the pavement. Her beloved Mercedes had refused to start and she'd had to call the tow company to get it to the auto shop._

_Passing by Dr. Hopper, out walking his dog, she replied to his cheerful greeting with a barely audible muttered "good morning". The morning was anything but good._

_A flash of red in the corner of her eye made her shift her gaze to the opposite side of the street. It was, of course, Emma Swan in that horrible leather jacket of hers, taking a morning walk with Ms. Blanchard. As soon as she'd seen them, Emma met her gaze and shouted something._

_Regina sighed and barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Could the day get any worse?_

_"Regina!" Emma called out, leaving her friend behind as she hurried over the street towards Regina. "I need to talk to you."_

_Regina reluctantly stopped, knowing exactly how persistent Emma would be should Regina try to avoid her. "Ms. Swan–"_

_Then suddenly, several things happened almost at the same time, too quickly for anyone to react. The screech of rubber against asphalt. The loud crash of a body hitting metal and glass. A body tossed like a rag doll, landing hard on the ground. A car slamming straight into a tree nearby, coming to an abrupt halt._

_For a fraction of a second, nothing happened._

_And then, Mary Margaret's anguished scream, "Emma!" as she ran to the battered body in the middle of the road._

_Regina followed her without thinking, only vaguely aware of the other people around her. Emma was lying on her back, legs and arms in odd angles and blood pooling around her body. Their eyes locked and Emma reached for her, trying to say something, but no words came out past her bloodied lips._

_There was fear in Emma's eyes as tears streamed down her face and it shook Regina more than Emma's injuries ever could. Emma had always seemed somewhat untouchable, always rebounding and fighting back without fear. To see terror written all over the face of the purported Savior was unsettling, to say the least._

_Emma blinked once, twice, looking as if she was trying to get up... and then nothing._

_She was officially declared dead on the scene when the ambulance arrived, minutes later._

"Madame Mayor?"

Regina blinked and pulled her gaze away from the spot on the street that she had been staring at. For how long had she been standing there?

"Dr. Hopper. Good morning," she greeted him with a forced smile, trying to regain her composure.

He shot a look at the street. "Hard to believe it's been more than two weeks now, isn't it?"

"Time goes on, doctor. There isn't much you can do about it."

"Of course," he agreed, somewhat absentmindedly.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Regina asked, "was there anything else?"

Archie let out a quick breath, steeling himself. "I just want you to know, that if there's any time you need to talk about what happened–"

"I'm not in need of any therapy," she snapped, almost adding "cricket" at the end.

"I was there, Madame Mayor, and you and Mary Margaret were even closer. You watched a person die," he insisted. "It's nothing to be ashamed of to be affected by that in some way, no matter how you felt about her."

"I suggest you offer your services to people who need them. I _don't_. I'm sure Ms. Blanchard would appreciate it, though. She's always been a sensitive person," Regina practically sneered. "Good day, Dr. Hopper."

* * *

Entering Granny's Diner a few hours later, Regina was relieved to find that it was fairly empty, despite it being lunchtime. It wasn't all that much of a surprise, though, seeing how the sheriff's death had put a dampener on everyone's mood in the small town. She sat down at one of the tables, satisfied that she wouldn't be bothered by irritated constituents and their petty concerns.

"Madame Mayor," Ruby greeted her, "I haven't seen you in here since–" She faltered, her face falling. She quickly forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and continued, "for a while. What can I get you?"

"A Caesar salad and a glass of water, please."

"Coming right up," Ruby chirped a little too cheerfully to be believable, spinning on her heel and sauntering off to another customer. She looked like she'd always done, but a part of her – that spark of hers – was missing.

There were a few other faces in the diner that Regina recognized. Of course there was Leroy who sat on one of the bar stools and looked as grumpy as always. In one of the corner booths, Albert Spencer sat, his focus solely on the newspaper in front of him.

What caught Regina's attention, however, was the brunette sitting at one of the middle tables. Mary Margaret was mindlessly stirring the contents of her cup with her spoon, staring off into the distance with dull, unseeing eyes. Of the few people that had witnessed the accident, she had definitely taken it the worst. She was a shell of her former self, the light in her eyes completely extinguished.

It was ironic, really. Regina should have been happy; she should have been rejoicing in her enemy's misery, seeing how Mary Margaret had finally broken. But it didn't help; it didn't do anything for Regina when the problems with her son overshadowed everything else. The one time her enemy lost, she couldn't even enjoy the victory.

Perhaps it was true what Henry had said, that Emma had come here to bring back everyone's happy ending... even Regina's?

She scoffed mentally at the preposterous idea. Emma Swan had been a menace and Regina was sure that had she not died, Emma would still have found a way to try to take Henry away.

The bell over the door sounded as Kathryn Nolan entered, her face brightening a bit as she found Regina sitting there.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked with a tentative smile, pulling off her gloves.

Regina had been looking forward to eating her lunch alone, but she had to admit that Kathryn was _acceptable_ company. "Please," she replied with a reserved smile and gestured for Kathryn to sit down.

After Ruby had come over and taken her order, Kathryn leaned forward on her elbows, fixing Regina with an unreadable look. "We haven't spoken much these last weeks. How are things with you?"

"They're fine," Regina replied tersely. "I'm fine."

"Look, Regina," Kathryn began, putting her hand over Regina's, "we're friends. You don't have to act like nothing's out of the ordinary with me. Just... talk to me. Okay?" Her smile was faint but hopeful.

Regina stayed silent for a few moments and then sighed. It couldn't hurt to talk to a... friend, could it? "It's difficult, at times. Dr. Hopper pesters me whenever he can and Henry is certain that _I_ had something to do with her death. He won't even talk to me," she added in a quiet voice, finding it increasingly difficult to say it out loud.

"He just misses her," Kathryn assured Regina and squeezed her hand gently, "we all do."

Regina scoffed.

"Oh please, like you don't miss her even a little bit?" Kathryn teased with a smirk. "She kept you on your toes."

Regina rolled her eyes. "Emma Swan was a pain and a menace," she said, but without as much of a sting as she usually said it. Eager to change the topic, she continued, "how are you? How is it going with David?" She managed to keep her fairly friendly smile up even as she mentioned David's name.

"Oh." Kathryn ducked her head, a wistful look playing in her eyes. "I'm... I don't know. He says he wants to make our marriage work, but in reality he's pining. These last two weeks, he's almost been as depressed as Mary Margaret. Doesn't take a genius to figure out why."

"I'm sorry," Regina offered, unsure of how to best respond.

Kathryn leaned back with a shrug. "Yeah, well, I still love him. I'm just– at some point it stops being worth it, you know? At some point you just have to stop pretending and let him go," she said with a sad smile.

"I suppose so," Regina mumbled.

* * *

The evening came quickly that day, nothing at work noteworthy enough to remain in her memory. Regina sat in the living room, nursing a glass of whiskey. She took another swig of it, reveling in the burning sensation as the liquid traveled down her throat. She let out a soft sigh and regarded the glass in her hand with blank eyes. Drinking wasn't enough – she knew that all too well – but it did help to some extent.

After seeing the place of the accident again that morning, all the memories and thoughts that she had worked so hard to bury were back, plaguing her whenever her mind wasn't occupied with something.

She should have seen the car. _Someone_ should have seen the car. Ms. Blanchard, Dr. Hopper, Emma, _anyone_.

Her knuckles whitened from the tightened grip on her glass as her frustration rose to the surface. She had all but completely lost her son and there wasn't anything she could think of that could bring him back to her, nothing that could make him love her again. Love was fleeting – just like her mother had said – and now it had left her twice.

A sudden banging on the door tore her out of her thoughts, making her flinch and spill whiskey on the carpet. With a few muttered curses, she got to her feet and walked over to the door, wondering who would bother her this late.

She opened the door, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind. Seeing who it was, however, all Regina could do was stare at the woman in front of her. Long blonde curls flowed down past the woman's shoulders onto her red leather jacket, a jacket that was scraped and dirty, sporting several cuts and gashes that had been patched and sewn together.

"Regina."

Regina gasped, her eyes wide, and took a few unsteady steps back. "Emma," she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Yeah, hey," Emma responded, her brows shooting up in surprise at Regina's odd behavior. "I just came back and wondered if I could see Henry. Just, like, to say hi. Haven't talked to him in two weeks, you know?" She looked a little sheepish, hands shoved down her pockets, but Regina didn't notice any of it.

"You're– you're _here_?" It was quiet, more like a thought spoken aloud than an actual question.

"Obviously." Emma narrowed her eyes, giving Regina a scrutinizing look. "What's going on?"

Before Regina had time to respond, she heard her son's voice right behind her.

"Emma?" he said, sounding like he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"Hey, kid–," Emma begun before Henry rushed over to her and flung himself into her embrace.

"It's really you," he exclaimed, pulling her close.

"Who else would I be?" Noticing the sobs tearing through Henry's body, she continued in a softer voice, "what's the matter, Henry? I was just gone for two weeks."

"I thought you were dead," he mumbled into her jacket.

"Wait, what?" Emma frowned, eyes shifting between Henry and Regina. "You thought I was _dead_? Like, I had died?"

Henry simply nodded, his sobs turning into soft sniffs as he finally let go of Emma.

"Why would you..." She trailed off, meeting Regina's bewildered eyes. "You told him I'd died?"

Regina opened her mouth as if to speak, but between the shock of seeing Emma alive and well and an indeterminate amount of alcohol in her blood, her thoughts were a jumbled mess.

"What the _hell_, Regina?"

Swallowing, Regina tried her best to regain what little composure she could. "I think you should leave now, Ms. Swan," she said, unable to hide the quaver in her voice.

"You really think I'd let you–"

"Now, Ms. Swan," Regina said as sharply as she could muster, feeling panic slowly taking over. It was too much, too fast and she couldn't even begin to make sense of it. "We'll both still be here tomorrow."

For a moment, Emma looked like she was going to object, but seeing how tired both Regina and her son looked, she changed her mind. "Fine. You'll be okay, kid?" she asked Henry to which he nodded. "Okay. I'll be back tomorrow. This isn't over, Regina, not even close," she warned. With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Regina's hand was shaking as she closed the door. Emma was alive. She was _alive_ and yet she looked like she was wearing the same jacket that she had worn during the accident. The accident where she had _died_. It wasn't possible, and yet unless Regina was hallucinating, both she and Henry had seen the impossible happen. How had Emma been able to do what Regina had tried and failed to do so many times over? How had she been able to cheat death?

When she came out of her thoughts, Henry had already gone back to his bedroom, thankfully without asking any questions. With heavy steps, her hands still shaking, she headed up the stairs to her own bed. Sleep wouldn't come easy, that much she was sure of.


	2. Chapter 2

_Emma awoke with a gasp, her lungs screaming for air. Pain shot through her whole body – blinding pain that seemed to pulse in sync with her heartbeat. Tearing her eyes open, all she could see was darkness. She couldn't focus, couldn't form any kind of coherent thoughts. She wanted to scream in panic and agony but wasn't able to make a sound, her breathing still quick and heavy. Her body wouldn't obey her either; she barely had the strength to flex her fingers._

_She didn't know where she was, she didn't know what was happening, all she knew was the pain that seemed to find its way to every nerve, every cell in her body. Pulsing, pounding, as if she was slammed onto the ground over and over again without pause._

_Eventually – she had no idea how long she'd been there – her breathing became less ragged and she began to feel more than just the pain. She was lying down. Flexing her fingers and moving her hand slightly, she could feel gravel and what most likely was asphalt under her palm and on her face. She blinked away some of the tears, her eyes finally able to focus correctly. The darkness in front of her was indeed asphalt._

_Steeling her jaw, Emma focused all her strength on her right arm, pushing herself onto her back. She couldn't hold back a sharp cry of pain and a few new tears, but it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Everything hurt, but it was almost manageable. Blinking away the tears, she tilted her head up as far as she could and gave her body a once-over. No blood, as far as she could see in the dim light, and no obvious marks on her clothes. So far so good._

_A quick look around her showed a dark alley she didn't recognize. Frowning, she moved to sit up but her arms couldn't carry her and all she managed to do was to croak out a choked curse. She tilted her head back, measuring the distance to the wall. If she could get there, it would be easier to sit up._

_The crawl those few feet felt like it took an eternity, as she was barely able to use her limbs. Using the wall for support, she managed to scoot up into a sitting position, her back against the wall. She sat there for a while, regaining her breath as much as possible while trying to gather her thoughts._

_Her body was hurt, badly hurt. Bruises or internal damage, she couldn't tell. She also felt vaguely nauseous and had no strength left. Had she been running? Shaking her head, Emma tried to remember what had happened. How had she gotten here?_

_And on that note, where was she? Looking around, it was getting more and more obvious to her that this wasn't Storybrooke; the houses were too tall and the background noise couldn't come from a sleepy little town like Storybrooke. Had she gone to Boston?_

_Slowly, she pulled up her shaking hand to her forehead, trying to ward off an oncoming headache. The last thing she remembered was taking a walk with Mary Margaret. What had happened since then? Why couldn't she remember? Why had she gotten hurt?_

_She had to call someone. Ignoring the pain, she fumbled through her pockets as fast as she could, but they were all empty. No phone, no wallet, no keys, nothing. A chill went down her spine and her mouth went dry. Had she been robbed? Beaten? Raped? Was whoever did it still nearby? What if they came back to finish the job? She licked her dry lips, drawing her fingers through her hair, nails scraping against her scalp. She had to get up and find help._

_Bracing herself against the wall, she got to her feet, the pain fairly tolerable. The nausea, on the other hand, was worse and she had to double over immediately to keep from throwing up. A few deep breaths later, she was able to stumble along the wall towards the end of the alley where it connected to a large street._

_When she finally exited the alley, her strength was gone and her legs crumbled underneath her. She fell to her knees, hissing in pain as they hit the sidewalk._

_"Hey, are you okay?"_

_A man had stopped a few feet away, watching her carefully. She was still high on fear and adrenaline and her first instinct was to run away, but she pushed down the warring emotions. The man looked harmless enough._

_"Yeah, I'm–" she began, then shook her head and drew a shaky breath. "No, I– I think I was robbed." Her voice was rough and felt as if she hadn't used it for days. "You need to call the..." She faltered, the words forgotten, as she looked around in disbelief. "This isn't Boston," she whispered._

_"Uh, no," he said and looked up from his phone, apparently already calling the police._

_"Where?" she asked, snapping her head towards him. "Where am I?"_

_He blinked, giving her a puzzled look. "Tallahassee, Florida."_

* * *

Emma watched with mixed emotions the houses of Storybrooke pass by outside the bus. She was glad to get back to the sleepy little town again, but at the same time she couldn't shake the feeling that something was different – or that something _should_ be different.

The bus arrived at the stop and Emma stepped off, oddly surprised when the town really did look exactly as it had looked the last time she was here, more than two weeks earlier. Most people had already gone home for the evening, but the few that were still outside – walking their dogs, coming home late for work, doing eerily normal things – paid her no mind. Sure, she hadn't lived in the town for long, but shouldn't at least someone raise an eyebrow when the sheriff returned after being away for two weeks?

Or maybe all this was just her own way of trying to make sense of the time she was missing, the week that she couldn't remember. Archie would probably know. She sighed, already feeling a headache creeping up on her. Maybe Mary Margaret would be able to clear some things up. With that thought, Emma headed down the street towards her friend's apartment.

A weight lifted from her shoulders when she saw her beloved Bug parked on the street outside Mary Margaret's. She'd looked for it all over Tallahassee as soon as she'd gotten well enough to walk, but hadn't found a trace of it. A part of her had feared that it had been stolen as well. Her fingers traced the curves of the yellow metal as she walked past it, a relieved smile playing on her lips.

Emma wasn't sure what she'd expected when she knocked on the door to the apartment, but being greeted by a happy and only slightly surprised Mary Margaret was not it.

"Emma! Welcome back," Mary Margaret said with a warm smile. "That's so funny, I was just thinking about when you'd be back." She closed the door behind them and made her way to the kitchen. "Do you want some cocoa?"

"Yeah, sure," Emma replied, sitting down at the kitchen table, still unable to shake the uneasiness she'd felt ever since she'd crossed the town border. Something was... _off_.

"Now," Mary Margaret said when the cocoa was ready, placing two cups on the table, "tell me all about your trip. How was it?"

The cocoa was hot and delicious and Emma hadn't realized just how much she'd missed it. It tasted like home and it almost made her forget about where she'd been. Almost.

"It was... interesting."

The sunny expression on Mary Margaret's face slowly faded away, replaced with concern. "Did something happen?"

Emma took another sip of her cocoa. It all sounded so far-fetched right now, she wasn't even sure if it had really happened. No memory of ten days of her life, after which she woke up in the capital of Florida? That wasn't something that happened to people; it was something taken out of a movie.

"I, uh..." She faltered, trying to decide where to begin. "I think I was robbed."

"Oh, Emma," Mary Margaret gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." _Not really._ "I mean, I guess so. I'm not hurt or anything." _At least not anymore._

She didn't really want to get into details, not yet. Mary Margaret didn't need to know about the pain when she'd awoken or the odd fact that she hadn't had any visible injuries whatsoever. Things were complicated enough as it was. So before Mary Margaret had time to respond, Emma quickly continued, "this might sound a little weird, but do you remember when I left?"

Her friend blinked, surprised at the sudden change of topic. "A little over two weeks ago, right? Sixteen days, I think."

"And did I say where I was going or anything?"

"You're right, you do sound a little weird. What's going on?"

Emma sighed, looking down at her cup. She had to tell her eventually, right? No matter how little sense it made. "After I'd been robbed, I woke up in an alley. In Florida." She paused, chewing on her lip. "And I don't remember how I got there."

"You don't remember how you got to that alley?"

"I don't know how I even got to _Florida_." Emma saw how incredulous her friend looked and huffed in frustration. "Look, I'm not making this up, okay? Last thing I remember, I'm in Storybrooke two weeks ago and then suddenly I wake up in an alley in Tallahassee ten days later and my phone and wallet and keys are gone and my body feels like it's been used as a punching bag."

"Oh. I... I don't know what to say."

"Did I ever call or text you? Or anyone else you know of?" Maybe there would be some clues there. She would have to check her phone records as well.

"No, no one I know of. I just figured you wanted some time for yourself."

"Do you remember what happened just before I left?"

Mary Margaret opened her mouth briefly, but then shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure, I think you needed some space, so you wanted to leave town for a little while."

"Did I say where I was going?"

"No. I don't think so."

"And you didn't think it was strange that I left without my Bug?

"Well, now that you mention it." Mary Margaret's brows furrowed in confusion. "I never thought about it before now, though."

If Emma had thought her feelings of something being different would lessen after speaking with her roommate again, she'd been mistaken. Emma wasn't prone to paranoia, but something about this whole conversation was causing the hairs on her skin to stand right out. She hadn't told Mary Margaret where she was going? She hadn't brought her car and Mary Margaret hadn't reacted?

It was beginning to feel like one of those moments in a movie when everything is too bright, the colors are a little off, everyone's too happy and you just _know_ that something is going to go horribly wrong at any moment.

"Henry missed you," Mary Margaret mentioned, as if just remembering it. "I... I guess he wasn't sure if you'd return or not." She gave Emma an apologetic smile.

"Oh crap, Henry," Emma blurted out. Between the memory loss and the unexplained trip to Florida, she'd actually almost forgotten about him. Of course he'd be worried; she'd been gone for weeks without – as far as she knew – any hints of returning other than her car still being here. Shit. She rose from the table abruptly. "I've got to go see him."

"Emma, it's late, I don't think Regina would–"

"Yeah, well she just has to deal with it," Emma replied, already heading for the door. "I'm seeing my kid."

"Emma–"

"I'll be back in a bit, don't worry." She flashed her roommate what she hoped was a reassuring smile – far brighter than she felt – and headed back outside.

It wasn't until she reached the driver's door of her car that she realized that her robber had taken her keys as well. Muttering a few curses, she decided to walk to the mayor's mansion. She knew she could use the time to think.

She'd left town without her car. That was the thing she kept coming back to. Leaving her friends, her new-found son, her job and her home, that was one thing; leaving her precious yellow Volkswagen was another thing entirely. It was cynical, but she was honest enough with herself to know how she worked. When things got too complicated, too close, too much, she ran. But she always, _always_, brought her car.

And even if she would for a moment forget about the emotional attachment to it and think logically, like the bounty hunter she'd been up until a few months ago, no one in their right mind would leave a small, isolated town like this by bus or taxi if they had a car. Especially not her, who loved the freedom a car gave her.

There was something missing from all this. There _had_ to be. She just couldn't figure out what, and coming back to Storybrooke had only raised more questions than she'd had before.

She arrived at the mansion just as her resolve was starting to weaken. It was pretty late – not middle-of-the-night-late, but still late. Her relationship with Regina had always been antagonistic, to say the least; what was even to say that she'd let Emma see Henry? The time of day was reason enough to turn her away. Still, she'd walked over here and she might just as well use the opportunity. The chance to see Henry was reason enough.

She knocked on the door, preparing herself for one of the Mayor's usual scathing remarks as a greeting.

Instead, the door opened, revealing a Regina who looked nothing like the Regina she knew. She looked tired, without the usual hard glint in her eyes or the condescending smirk that always seemed to find its way onto her lips. Had something happened to Henry?

"Regina," she said curtly.

Regina's eyes widened almost comically and she stumbled back, a look of complete shock on her face. "Emma." The name was a whisper, as if she hadn't meant to say it out loud. It was also oddly soft and spoken with more than a hint of fear. Wait, what? Fear?

"Yeah, hey." Emma shoved her hands down her pockets, unsure of how to react to this strange side of Regina. What was really going on here? "I just came back and wondered if I could see Henry. Just, like, to say hi. Haven't talked to him in two weeks, you know?"

"You're– you're _here_?" Her voice was so small, so quiet that Emma almost didn't hear it.

"Obviously," Emma replied. This was getting more than weird. Was Regina drunk? High? "What's going on?"

"Emma?" Henry's voice suddenly interrupted them and Emma smiled at him.

"Hey, kid–" And before she could finish, he threw himself at her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"It's really you," he said, his voice muffled from being pressed into Emma.

"Who else would I be?" she joked, trying to lighten up the tense and increasingly strange situation, but seeing how Henry was on the verge of crying, it seemed a lost cause. "What's the matter, Henry? I was just gone for two weeks."

"I thought you were dead," he mumbled, sniffling.

"Wait, what?" She couldn't have heard right. "You thought I was _dead_? Like, I had died?"

Henry stepped back, nodding and wiping his eyes.

"Why would you..." She looked up to meet Regina's wild eyes, trying to make sense of it all. Why would he think that? Why didn't she– unless–

"You told him I'd died?" she asked Regina with rising anger. She received no confirmation, but also no denial. "What the _hell_, Regina?"

Straightening up, Regina regained some of her usual aura of power. "I think you should leave now, Ms. Swan."

"You really think I'd let you–"

"Now, Ms. Swan," Regina snapped. "We'll both still be here tomorrow."

Emma wasn't sure what to do. Somehow the fairly straightforward – if aggravating – visit to the Mayor had become a giant, surreal clusterfuck. Henry thought she'd died? How did someone even come up with that?

Still, it wouldn't do her much good to start a fight with Regina now when Emma still had so many loose ends to tie up, so many things she hadn't figured out yet. Going up against Regina meant a plan, and a good one at that. She would have to back down this time.

"Fine. You'll be okay, kid?" Henry simply nodded. He really looked tired. "Okay. I'll be back tomorrow." She fixed Regina with a piercing glare. "This isn't over, Regina, not even close." Not bothering to wait for a response, she turned around and marched away.

Emma's legs moved on their own, guiding her back to Mary Margaret's apartment while she tried to make sense of the short conversation. Henry thought she'd died. Had he thought the curse would kill her if she left? Or had he simply figured that she'd gotten tired of the town and left for good? But why would he say that he'd thought she was dead? Dead didn't mean "left town"; dead meant _dead_.

While she had accused Regina of telling Henry she'd died, she wasn't too sure about it. Letting Henry think for two weeks that Emma was dead was just spiteful, and while Regina wasn't exactly the nicest person in town, even she wouldn't do something like that to Henry. Besides, it was utterly pointless when she knew Emma could return any day. Regina didn't make mistakes like that.

Although, Regina had acted as if she'd seen a ghost as well, albeit not spelling it out as clearly as Henry had. Had she really thought Emma had died? If it was just a part of Henry's fantasy Regina would have been the last person to believe it. And yet, her face when opening the door wasn't the face of someone meeting someone else returning from a trip; it was the face of _you're not here, you can't be here_. It was the face of someone seeing a dead person.

But if both Regina and Henry actually believed it, what did that mean? Why would they and no one else think that Emma was–

Unless–

No. Not even Regina would do something like that.

Would she?

Suddenly the small, sleepy town didn't feel so friendly anymore. Emma picked up the pace, trying to ignore the shadows she saw skirting around out of the corner of her eye. Regina wouldn't do that, there was nothing to be worried about.

She shook her head at her own irrational fear. There was another explanation to this, she just had to find it. Right now, the theories she had made Henry's curse look believable.

* * *

Emma sat down on her bed an hour or so later, completely spent. The talk with Mary Margaret had gone on far longer than she'd anticipated – or, honestly, wanted it to – and now all she wanted to do was to go to _sleep_.

Still, all the unanswered questions remained in her mind, unwilling to let her go off into dreamland. According to Mary Margaret, no one she'd spoken to for the last two weeks had thought anything other than that Emma was away on some unspecified trip. So why did Regina and Henry believe something else entirely?

Lying down on the bed, she winced. There was something underneath her that was pushing into her back. She sat up again, frowning as she saw the two objects that lay there.

A wallet and a pair of keys. Two objects that looked suspiciously like the two she'd lost in Tallahassee. Dumbfounded, she picked them up, studying them carefully. There was no doubt about it, it was her keys and her wallet. Licking her dry lips, she thought about the implications. Leaving without keys, wallet _and_ car, that was simply too much of a coincidence.

Her heart raced as she tried to think of something – anything – to explain it, besides the most obvious explanation. Could she have been in such a hurry that she had forgotten her things? Maybe she hadn't had the time? If she'd been woken up in the middle of the night, maybe, had forgotten her wallet and phone and hadn't had time to go back for her keys... If she could only remember what had made her leave!

She buried her face in her palms, trying to go back in her mind to the last thing she remembered before waking up in Tallahassee.

They were out on a walk, Emma and Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret was on her way to... see David? Probably. They were talking about something fairly irrelevant when she saw Regina.

Regina was on the other side of the street; their eyes met and Emma hurried over. There was something about the budget, or the Sheriff's department in general, maybe a request for a deputy? And then... pain.

Emma drew in a sharp breath, her heartbeat speeding up.

She felt shock, pain and she was... thrown to the ground? The memories were getting really fuzzy by now. Someone was saying something she couldn't hear, maybe holding her down? She heard someone saying that they had to wait for something – wait for a car.

The very next memory was Regina, looming over her with dark eyes. And fear. Deep, desperate fear that made her want to throw up and cry and run, run as far as she could from the terror that made her feel so small and helpless.

A strangled sob shook her body and she curled up on the bed, burying her face in the pillow. It all made sense now. Regina had tried to kill her. She hadn't just tried to run Emma out of town, humiliate her or scare her, she had tried to _kill_ her.

And now Emma was back in Regina's town, alive and with a target on her back.


End file.
